Pittsburgh by Night
by Soledad
Summary: A complementary story to The Toreador Chronicles, focusing on the underused Cynthia. Xover with The Guardian and my Pathways vampire universe.
1. The Invitation

**Pittsburgh by Night**

**by Soledad**

**A "Pathways in the Dark" story**

**A side product to "The Toreador Chronicles". **

**Disclaimer:** The characters and settings in this series – just like in the entire "Pathways" universe – belong to Mark Rein-Hagen (White Wolf), Joss Whedon (Mutant Enemy), David Hollander and Russel T. Davies (Showtime). Only a couple of original characters belong to me.

**Rating:** Teens, for the moment. It might or might not go higher later, in which case the rating will be modified.

**Genre**: Crossover with my _Pathways_ vampire alternate universe and _The Guardian_.

**Some background information:**

In this particular AU, Justin has left Pittsburgh somewhen during Season 4, receiving an art scholarship from the DeLaigle Ateliers in Los Angeles. He's left town without telling anyone where he was going, save his mother, who was sworn to secrecy, however.

Accidentally, Brian applies for a rather large job for Kinnetic, a permanent association with the famous Girard Fashion House and its associated business partners. This is a job that could feed him for the rest of his life, plus he finds the idea of living and working in LA, at least part-time, intriguing.

He can't know, of course, that his future business partners are Kindred vampires, and that they've had their eyes on him for quite some time. So he flies to LA for an interview, not knowing that this was his first step in the Dark.

In LA, Brian eventually gets Embraced into Clan Toreador. Meanwhile in Pittsburgh, Cynthia is running _Kinnetic_ practically on her own, and gets involved in business with one Horatio Ballard, a wealthy and very influential businessman. Little does she know that Ballard is a vampire of Clan Ventrue and works on the establishing of a strong Camarilla presence in Pittsburgh.

The story features various characters from both QAF and _The Guardian_, as well as original Kindred characters of my _Pathways in the Dark_ universe. To quote James Walkswithwind, _Pathways_ "is the AU that swallows all fandoms". This time, it was _The Guardian_'s turn.

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Part 01 – The Invitation

Cynthia had been surprised when the invitation to meet with Horatio Ballard came. As far as she knew, _Kinnetic_ had no new business offer from the Ballard empire – and besides, in that case Ballard's lawyers, _Fallin & Fallin_ would have contacted Brian first. That Nick Fallin hadn't said anything, despite the fact that they had been dating for the last couple of weeks didn't surprise her, though. Business was business and fun was fun. She was a consummated professional herself who wouldn't allow pillow talk to get in the way of her job, either.

She wasn't surprised to find Nick in Ballard's large private office. If this was going to be a business proposal, after all the tycoon would want his lawyer to be present. She'd half-expected Ballard's chief accountant, a sour-faced, fifty-something guy by the name of Alan Sovereign to be there, and Ms Matthews, Ballard young but surprisingly efficient secretary. The tycoon's bodyguard, a large, blond-maned Viking type also lingered in the background, but that wasn't a new thing, either.

The only unfamiliar person was a man in his late thirties, wearing way too casual clothes and a vague resemblance to Ballard. Frankly, he stood out of the refined environment like a sore thumb.

"My… cousin, Lawrence," Ballard introduced him.

"And the black sheep of the family, who had the cheek to become a police detective, instead of taking over some of the family business," Lawrence Ballard added with a grin, shaking Cynthia's hand unceremoniously.

Ballard Sr frowned. "Lawrence has just arrived from Chicago after a lengthy stay in hospital."

"Which is a nice euphemism for the fact that I spent a few years in a coma," Ballard Jr supplied helpfully. "Somehow that spoiled for me the fun of living in the Windy City, so I asked for a reassignment and returned to the bosom of the family – well, more or less. I'm still a cop."

"Good for you… I guess," Cynthia said, a little uncertainly. "If you can get along with Chief Stockwell, that is."

"Oh, he's not as powerful as he likes to believe by half," Lawrence Ballard replied blithely. "I think Mr Kinney's counteracting has proved _that_ well enough."

"We'll deal with the Stockwell problem later," Horatio Ballard interrupted. "Right now, we're here because we want to make an offer to _you_, Ms Moore."

"To me?" Cynthia frowned. "But I can't accept or reject any offers – or negotiate them in the first place – without checking in with Brian first… I mean Mir Kinney."

"This isn't about _Kinnetic_ or about ad business at all," Ballard said. "We intend to make an offer to _you_. Not as a representative of Ms Kinney but as a person."

"That's certainly flattering," Cynthia said, and she meant it. Working for Ballard would have meant to get into the upper league herself. "But I don't intend to leave _Kinnetic_. I've worked with Brian for a long time, and I _like_ working with him, despite his tempers." Besides, Brian _needed_ her as the only person who could deal with those tempers. But she wasn't going to tell them _that_.

"We're not offering you a job," Ballard said, completely unfazed by her refusal. "We're offering you a place in the family."

Cynthia gave him a suspicious look. "I don't intend to marry, either," she stated tartly. "Been there, done that, still have the scars."

The Ballards and their associates laughed.

"Neither does any of us intend to marry you," Horatio Ballard said. "What we're going to reveal to you might coma as a shock, but it doesn't matter. You won't remember any of this afterwards, should you refuse."

"Are you gonna drug me?" Cynthia asked, trying very hard _not_ to panic.

Ballard Sr laughed again. "Oh, no, nothing so mundane. There are other ways… softer and more secure ones. But why don't you just hear me out first?"

"Perhaps because I feel as if I had walked into a lunatic asylum by accident?" Cynthia retorted, not minding that the tycoon might feel insulted and never have any business with _Kinnetic_ again. Brian wouldn't want to be associated with madmen anyway. "All right, I'm listening… for now. But you better make it short. I don't have all the time of the world."

"You will, should you decide to join us," Ballard said. "You see, I was born in 1832 and haven't aged a day since 1881. Lawrence here is actually the grandson of my brother; he was born in 1900 and has not aged since 1939. Lorraine has been permanently twenty-one since 1987."

"Yeah, sure," Cynthia replied. "And Mr Fallin here has been this young and pretty since the Civil War, right?"

Nick Fallin laughed. "Actually, I've only been Embraced last year. I'm still just a fledgling."

"A fledgling _what_?" Cynthia asked incredulously.

"A fledgling vampire, as you humans would say," Ballard Sr replied calmly. "We prefer the term _Kindred_, though."

"Vampires," Cynthia repeated with the patience of someone who didn't want to provoke a bunch of obviously very insane people.

Ballard had apparently expected this reaction. He looked around at the others. "I guess we'll have to show her," he said.

The others shrugged – then something really weird happened. Something one should only have seen if pumped full of Brian's favourite drugs. Everyone present – the respectable-looking businesspeople, the pretty secretary, the languid police detective, the long-haired Viking type at the door – underwent the same frightening change. Their eyes turned silver, talons extended on the end of their fingers, and as they smiled, long, sharp canines gleamed in their mouths.

"That's enough," Ballard Sr said, and they changed back to their usual form before Cynthia's glassy eyes. "There's no need to worry, Ms Moore," he added soothingly. "We won't harm you in any way, and we wouldn't do anything without your consent."

"Since this is clearly a hallucination, someone must have spiked my drink," Cynthia stated. "But let's assume for a moment that I believe you. What, exactly, do you want from me?"

"I want to make you one of us," Horatio Ballard replied simply. "We're of Clan Ventrue; a Clan of businesspeople, mostly, though not exclusively. You'd match the requirements for a Ventrue perfectly: you're elegant, beautiful, talented, ambitious and ruthless. You're also principled and loyal, which traits are highly valued among Ventrue. Becoming one of us would strengthen those traits and open near limitless possibilities for you – although you'd have to give up something in exchange."

"_What_ would I have to give up?" Cynthia asked warily.

"Your current diet and part of your freedom," Ballard answered. "When I Embrace you – that's what making a new Kindred is called – you'll become my Childe, and as such you'll owe me obedience. Kindred society still has definite… feudalistic traits, although many of those bounds have been loosened in the next century or two."

"Meaning?" Cynthia was still not buying any of it, but since this was a hallucination anyway. What could it harm to ask?

"Kindred law is harsh and the rules, while few, are enforced strictly," Ballard explained. "If any of my Childer goes against the rules, it's my duty to punish him or her; to kill them, if the wrongdoing is severe enough."

"To… _kill_ them?" Cynthia repeated. The hallucination was turning into a nightmare.

"Don't worry," Lawrence Ballard grinned. "I've been with him for more than sixty years, and he hasn't killed any of us in all that time. Of course, we always behaved."

"Not _always_," Ballard Sr. corrected. "If I remember correctly, I _was_ forced to… discipline you once or twice."

Cynthia looked from one Ballard to another. "I don't get it," she said to the younger one. "You're a police officer. How can you calmly accept that your uncle… great-uncle… whatever… might kill people for whatever mistake?"

"Not _people_," Lawrence Ballard corrected. "Other Kindred, if necessary. To protect himself, us… and the mortals among which we live. You must understand that it takes a lot to kill one of us. The usual weapons of the police forces won't do much good. That's why we police ourselves."

"Are you all Mr Ballard's… children?" Cynthia asked uncertainly.

"No," Ms Matthews replied. "Only Lawrence, Alan and Nick. Joe and I are his Brood-sibs."

"His… _what_?"

"His Brood-siblings," Ms Matthews explained. "We all have been Embraced by Lodin, the late Prince of Chicago at various times during the last two centuries. I'm the youngest of our generation… both as Kindred _and_ by mortal age."

"Wait," Cynthia interrupted. "What prince?"

"The Prince is the Kindred who rules over all other vampires in a city or other territory," Ms Matthews said. "He ors he is responsible for the enforcing of Kindred law, so that the mortals won't become aware of our existence."

"Why shouldn't they?" Cynthia asked.

"Because we're few and they are many," Horatio Ballard answered. "They'd hunt us and kill us; in their eyes we're nothing but undead monsters who drink the blood of living things to survive."

"Don't you do that?"

"Of course we do," Ballard said. "But we don't harm anyone with it. We need little to sustain our existence; no more than what's taken by a blood test, and that only every two or three days."

"That still can't go unnoticed," Cynthia said.

"True; but we can make the people we feed from forget," Ballard replied. "And the process itself is very… pleasurable, for both parties involved. It's nature's way to enable us to feed."

"Somehow I can't really imagine that," Cynthia said.

"We'll gladly demonstrate," Ballard said and looked at his youngest Childe. "Nick, give me your arm!"

Nick obediently took of his jacket, rolled up his sleeve and extended his arm to his Sire. Cynthia watched with morbid fascination as Ballard extended a talon and cut a small path down Nick's inner arm. She was more than a little grossed out, and yet she couldn't turn her eyes away.

A thin rivulet of blood began to seep from the small wound, the droplets sitting on Nick's pale skin like tiny rubies. Ballard leaned over the proffered arm and licked along the cut, sucking lightly. Nick threw back his head, ecstasy clearly written in his usually so troubled features, his eyes fell closed. There could be no doubt whatsoever that he was enjoying the procedure greatly, and Cynthia began to shiver from the expression on his face.

"You… you feed from one another, too?" she asked in a strangely weak tone.

Ms Matthews nodded matter-of-factly. "Sometimes, yes, but in the long run we need mortal blood to survive. Although," she added thoughtfully, "some very ancient ones are said to have lost the ability to digest mortal blood, so they need to keep a herd of Kindred volunteers to feed them."

"A… _herd_?" Cynthia repeated tonelessly. Things had just become too morbid for her taste.

"Mostly mortals, but on occasion Kindred who're willing to share their blood with a certain vampire," Ms Matthews allowed. "It's officially not allowed, of course, save for the Prince, but there are always individuals who think they're above the law."

"And these are then killed for it?" Cynthia asked.

"Warned first, disciplined second and, yes, destroyed, if they show no intention to obey," Horatio Ballard said, licking the small wound on Nick's arm closed. "Blood dolls are a different matter, though."

"Blood… dolls…" now Cynthia was certain that she'd fallen down a rabbit hole somehow. This simply couldn't be real. There was no way.

"Volunteers who offer their blood to Kindred for payment or certain... benefits," Ms Matthews explained. "Using volunteers is allowed, but not exclusively. That would bound them to the Kindred in a way that can cause a dangerous addiction on the mortal's side and endanger the Masquerade."

"I see," Cynthia said, although she did not. Not at all. She was staring at Nick's arm in shock – there was no trace of the wound anymore.

"It would look the same on a mortal," Nick commented with a small smile. "Something in our saliva helps to heal the feeding wound very quickly."

"That's why very few people ever realize our existence," Lawrence Ballard added. "There's no scar, and we make them forget what happened. All they remember is a pleasant feeling – as if they had a very erotic dream."

"I'll take your word for it," Cynthia replied dryly, then she turned to Ballard Sr. "Look, I'm still waiting to wake up with a terrible headache, but just in case I won't, I… I really have to give this whole thing some thought. Actually, make it a great deal of thought."

"That's understandable," Ballard answered. "This is not an easy decision – and an irreversible one. Take all the time you need. We're in no hurry here."

"I'd also need to learn more about the whole thing," Cynthia continued.

Ballard nodded. "Of course. Nick will stay in touch."

"And it's still very likely that I'd say no," Cynthia said.

"That's your right," Ballard replied. "In that case we'll make you forget, and you can continue your life as if this conversation had never taken place."

Somehow, Cynthia had her doubts about that. But she found it better not to confront them with her doubts just yet.

"All right, then," she said. "I'll go now, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Ballard replied jovially. "I'm looking forward to see you again."

But after Cynthia had left, he looked at his Childe in concern. "Lawrence, I want you to keep an eye on her. We've taken a great risk to reveal ourselves at such an early time."

"Why did you then?" Lawrence asked, already on his way out to organize – discretely – the observation of their future Clan member.

"Regardless of what I might have said to her, we _do_ have a schedule here," his Sire replied. "Half a century isn't that much to build up a strong Camarilla presence in an as-yet-unclaimed city. We had to start somewhere – and she is the most promising candidate."

TBC


	2. Informative Talk

**Pittsburgh by Night**

**by Soledad**

**A "Pathways in the Dark" story**

**A side product to "The Toreador Chronicles". **

For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction.

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Part 02 – Informative Talk

"So, how long have you been a vampire?" Cynthia asked, after they had finished dinner. They were having dinner at the _La Feria_, a popular Italian restaurant near Nick's home, as – understandably enough – Cynthia didn't want to stay alone with him for a while.

"For about a year," Nick replied easily. "I'm still just a baby in Kindred terms. If we had a Prince, I would be presented to him or her about now."

"What do you mean _if_ you had a Prince?" Cynthia asked in surprise. "Haven't you guys told me that every city has one?"

"Every city with a sufficient Kindred population," Nick clarified. "There are still very few of us in Pittsburgh, and not even all of them belong to the Camarilla."

Cynthia frowned. "To the _what_?" You're losing me, Nick."

"Basically, there are three main directions in Kindred society," Nick explained. "We of the Camarilla are for order, for enforcing the law and for peaceful coexistence with mortals. In fact, we work on keeping up the Masquerade, to keep our very existence hidden. The Sabbat are, well, every bit as bad horror movies depict 'vampires" as they understand the term. They turn people into one of them without their consent; they don't care if they kill people in their feeding frenzy, and generally consider mortals sheep and themselves the shepherds who can do as they please. The major part of a Prince's duties is made up of keeping the Sabbat away from his or her city. Sabbat cities don't have a Prince; they have a Bishop, as the sect has taken its orientation from the Catholic Church."

"The… _sect_?" Cynthia repeated blandly.

Nick nodded. "Both the Camarilla and the Sabbat are considered sects, as the basic difference between them is of philosophical nature. The third direction consists of the Anarch and the so-called independent Clans, who don't acknowledge the authority of a Prince but usually don't ally themselves with the Sabbat either, respect Kindred law and protect the Masquerade."

"Usually?" Cynthia echoed, feeling really, _really_ unwell.

Nick shrugged. "As a whole, yes. There are always individuals who don't follow Clan politics. Those are called the antitribu."

"How many Clans are there anyway?" Cynthia asked, morbidly fascinated by the intricacies of vampire culture.

"Thirteen," Nick replied. "Traditionally, the Ventrue, the Toreador, the Malkavians, the Tremere and part of the Brujah support the Camarilla. The Lasombra and the Tzimisce are the leaders of the Sabbat; very few of them follow a different path. The Assamites, the Giovanni, the Samedi, the Ravnos, the Setites and newly the Gangrel are the independent Clans. Many of the Brujah, the Ravnos and the Gangrel are also Anarch."

"There's a difference?" Cynthia asked.

Nick nodded. "There is. The Anarch generally refuse to accept any authority, or only that of their rebel leaders. Some of the independent Clans, however, have a very rigid hierarchy within Clan boundaries, and transgressings are severely punished."

"You mean they kill the culprit?" Cynthia asked.

"If he's _very_ lucky," Nick replied dryly. "There are a lot worse things than simple death, and they are masters in such things."

"I see," once again, Cynthia had to fight nausea by the thought of it. "But if Pittsburgh doesn't even have a Prince, then why would your… your…"

"One's maker is called the Sire," Nick supplied.

"Okay, why would your Sire want to make me one of your kind?"

"For two reasons," Nick said, flashing that charming smile of his. "Firstly because you'd make a wonderful Ventrue; you already have the traits necessary for our Clan. Secondly because we're preparing the City for its Prince-to-be. The first step is to increase the numbers of the Camarilla, preferably with candidates who come from the Prince's circle of close acquaintances. Whose loyalty has already been tested in mortal life. My Sire has been requested to Embrace Ted Smith when the time is right. _You_, however, have been chosen by the family."

"Ted?" Cynthia asked doubtfully. "Somehow I can't imagine him as a vampire. Why would _anyone_ want to turn him into one?"

"_Kindred_," Nick corrected. "We call ourselves _Kindred_. Be careful with your semantics; some of the Elders can be quite… touchy about the topic. As I said, Ted's Embrace has been requested from the outside… from the circles of our future Prince in LA."

"LA?" Cynthia frowned. "Someone is grooming an undead Prince for Pittsburgh?"

"Quite a few are working on it, in fact," Nick said. "Sure, he's still a fledgling himself, and he won't be able to return as long as anyone who's known him in his youth is alive; the not aging part could be hard to explain. We'll have half a century to build up the forces of the Camarilla, because, trust me a Sabbat takeover won't be beneficial for people's health. New York is the clearest warning one could wish for."

"New York is a Sabbat city?" Cynthia shivered, remembering that Brian had nearly gotten a job there. "What about LA?"

"LA is a Free Anarch State; the last of several that is still to exist," Nick said. "Gaining Camarilla control over Pittsburgh shouldn't be too difficult, though, since the Kindred population is so small. By increasing our numbers, we can ready the city for the arrival of the Prince. He has strong ties here – and powerful supporters in LA. There's no need why it shouldn't work."

"Are there any of those Sabbat types in Pittsburgh?" Cynthia asked in concern.

Nick shook his head. "Not that we know about it, although it's always possible. Most of us belong to the Camarilla; the Brujah are Anarch but decent enough chaps… within their limits. The only troublemakers are Cody Bell and his Anarch gang: City Gangrel are difficult by default, but these are gay skinheads, to add insult to injury, which means double trouble. Sooner or later we'll have to do something about them. Their reckless actions endanger the Masquerade, and we can't risk _that_."

"Cody Bell?" The name sounded vaguely familiar but at the moment Cynthia didn't know where to put it.

"The Pink Posse?" Nick supplied helpfully. "The gay boy patrol in pink muscle shirt to which Mr. Kinney's former twink, that Justin character was attached?"

"Right. I knew it sounded familiar," Cynthia nodded. "So, the angry little boys had been turned into bloodsuckers? I thought your people had a certain… _class_."

"Not all of us do," Nick admitted sourly. "City Gangrel in particular are known for their low standards. They're a strange lot. Fortunately, there aren't many of them, but this Cody and his friends are excellent raw material for Sabbat recruiters. That was part of the reason why we – I mean Kindred businessmen – used to support Chief Stockwell."

"You did?" Cynthia asked, a little taken aback.

Nick nodded. "Clan Ventrue values stability and order. Stockwell would have been a better guarantor for that as the current mayor is. Had he not gone on a homophobic spree, we'd have groomed him into a very suitable and useful mayor."

"In that case Brian really pissed on your leg," Cynthia said with deep satisfaction.

Nick grinned. "Yes, he did – which was exactly why our… _associates_ in LA became interested in him. That and the _Brown Athletics_ campaign, of course."

"You mean Brian is working for vamp… for Kindred?" Cynthia asked, stunned. "Has he any idea…?"

For a moment, Nick seemed to consider what to answer to _that_.

"Well, there's no easy way to break the news to you," he finally said. "The truth is: Brian Kinney is already one of us. He'd been Embraced into Clan Toreador a few months before Professor Bruckner's death."

"Oh…" being a really smart woman, Cynthia could make the connections from there easily. "So, this future Prince who's being groomed to take over Pittsburgh within a few decades…"

"… is Brian Kinney," Nick finished for her.

"And you don't mind?" Cynthia asked. "You all being the progeny of the Prince of Chicago and all?"

"Our… _family_ prefers to work from the background," Nick replied. "My Sire signalled his readiness to accept Mr. Kinney as our future Prince. With readying his way, we secure important positions for us in the hierarchy without being overly exposed. We like it that way."

"And my role would be…?"

"Every Prince needs a Seneschal," Nick explained. "This is usually a Ventrue, as our Clan has the best skills for such work. Toreadors have less patience for the detail, although some of them are almost as capable at business and politics as we are. Also, while individual members are trustworthy and follow the laws of prestation, the clan as a whole must be watched… even the Prince if he or she comes from their rows. They are capricious and can change sides in a wink of an eye. You've been working for Mr. Kinney long enough to know how to handle him and what kind of support he needs… even if he doesn't want it."

"That's certainly true," Cynthia said without false modesty. "But there's one aspect of your life that we haven't discussed yet. To put it bluntly: you're all dead, aren't you?"

"_Undead_," Nick corrected. "We're still kicking, after all. But basically, you're right. The Change _does_ begin with the death of the mortal being that we used to be."

"And that's my problem," Cynthia said. "What if I decide that I _would_ like to have children, after all? Say in a year from now? Or in two years? Or in five?"

"Well that way would be closed for you, should you decide to accept the Embrace," Nick admitted. "Do you really think you might want children later? You don't strike me as the homemaker type."

"And I'm not," Cynthia agreed, "or else my marriage would have been a little more successful. The problem is, I can't tell how I'll see these things in a few years' time. Being an undead… _citizen_," she changed her mind quickly before saying _monster_, "would limit my choices considerably."

"That's true," Nick said. "There are only two ways around it: either you'll have a child now, before your Embrace, or you'll have your fertilized eggs frozen so that they can be borne later by a surrogate mother."

"No," Cynthia said flatly. "If I'm going to have a child, I'll carry it to term. Being a mother is more than securing my genetic material for the future."

"I'm not suggesting that you should do so," Nick said. "I'm just pointing out the possibility."

"Is that what _you_ have done?" Cynthia asked.

Nick shook his head. "There is no need for another generation of Fallins to follow me, as – save unfortunate accidents – I'm not going to die any time soon. Of course, I'll have to leave Pittsburgh eventually, for a few decades, as the not getting older part would become… _suspicious_, eventually. But I'll be able to return as my own son, given enough time. Most Kindred businessmen switch identities to a next generation. That way, I'll be able to keep the firm under control. We owe our clients the safety of continuity."

"Does your father know…?" Cynthia asked. She had a hard time to imagine Burton Fallin taking calmly that his only son was now a vampire.

Nick shook his head again. "Even if I were allowed, I'd never tell him. His heart couldn't deal with it."

"So you're lying to him," Cynthia stated flatly.

Nick shrugged. "We're all lying about our existence. That's what the Masquerade is about."

"How are you going to explain him the not getting married part, then?" Cynthia wondered. In her experience, the heads of any successful family business were usually eager to see their progeny in the (supposedly) safe haven of matrimony, busily setting a new generation into the world.

Nick gave her a positively rakish grin. "Well, I still hope that I might change your mind about marriage, eventually."

Cynthia glared at him in disbelief. "You can't be serious! You can't really be suggesting what I _think_ you're suggesting!"

Nick shrugged. "Why not? We sleep with each other already, don't we? So what's the big difference? Or do you have a problem with getting nominally acquaintanted with me?"

"Aside from the fact that you're already dead?" Cynthia asked sarcastically. "Whyever should I have a problem with _that_? It's not as if I'd be totally freaked out by the realization that I've had sex with a dead guy in the recent weeks…"

"_Undead_," Nick corrected with a slightly insulted expression.

"That isn't any better," Cynthia retorted. "It simply means an animated corpse instead a regular one."

"Now you're exaggerating," Nick said, more than a little insulted. "Did I seem like a corpse to you in bed? I can't remember you complaining. Besides, I'll stick around a lot longer than any other guy you can hope to get."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Cynthia asked. "I'm not Brian Kinney, you know. I actually _care_ whom I share my bed with. Dead people have never been high up on my list. Hell, they've never _made_ it onto my list in the first place. You should have tried to make that offer in your mortal days – I might have considered it."

"Oh, trust me," Nick said grimly, "you wouldn't have liked my mortal self at all. I was drunk most of the time, high on cocaine, associated with drug dealers and crack whores… you name it, and I've done it."

"But no more?" Cynthia couldn't really believe it.

Nick shook his head. "Kindred nature generates a different sort of craving," he said simply. "It also changes one's perspective."

"You mean that now you're addicted to bloodsucking instead of drugs and booze?" Cynthia asked, wondering whether it would be true for Brian as well.

Nick shrugged. "It teaches you discipline. The Beast in us can only be controlled by feeding very little; only what we need to survive. If we lose control, the Elders will destroy us for endangering the Masquerade."

"So, if you'd lose it, getting on a bloodsucking orgy…" Cynthia trailed off.

"Horatio would kill me," Nick finished for her. "Or rather Joe would. He's the man for the dirty jobs – and he's very good at it. He used to be the Enforcer of the Prince of Chicago… his executioner. If he's sent after someone, that person would better write his or her will, because there would be no escape.

Cynthia, remembering the blond-maned giant with the icy blue eyes, didn't doubt it for a moment.

"So nice to know I've spent time in the company of a professional killer," she said, shivering.

"He's never harmed a mortal, to my knowledge," Nick replied with a shrug. "Camarilla law forbids the killing of mortals, unless it's absolutely necessary."

"And who decides _when_ it is necessary?" Cynthia asked.

"The Prince," Nick answered. "Or, if there's no Prince, like here, the Elders of the Clan. They only allow if when someone's life is threatened, in self-defence – or to protect the Masquerade. Which is also self-defence, if you think about it: by keeping our existence hidden, we ensure our survival."

"So why am I not dead, then?" Cynthia asked.

"We're currently wooing you for the Clan," Nick said with another one of those charming grins. "Besides, you're no threat for us. You're not a _resistor_ – we can make you forget everything you've learned about us and fill the holes in your memory with… _censored_ information."

"You can manipulate my mind so easily?" Cynthia was decidedly uncomfortable with the thought.

Nick laughed. "Not me, obviously. In Kindred terms, I'm still a baby. And no, it's _not_ easy. That's why it's always the Elders who make the more sensitive operations. After a century or two it's said to be not all that hard."

"And that, exactly, is what makes me a little uncomfortable," Cynthia pointed out. "Actually, it makes me more than just a _little_ uncomfortable. It makes me feel like a puppet, jerked around on strings by a puppeteer. I don't _like_ being a puppet. I don't like other people manipulating my mind for their own comfort."

"It's as much for your own protection as for ours," Nick said.

"I do understand that," Cynthia replied coldly. "But that doesn't make me like it any more."

She paused for a moment, playing with her wineglass absentmindedly.

"There is something else," she continued after a while, "and I'm afraid I must insist in this point. Whenyou guys are gonna mind-rape me, I want a firmly established memory about the two of us having broken up. _Amiably_.

"Isn't the term you're using a little exaggerated?" Nick asked, insulted.

Cynthia shrugged. "Well, you're gonna enter my mind, whether I want it or not – it _is_ violation, and there's no way to make it look anything else. So, if it has to happen, I might as well have something out of it."

"And by _something_ you mean getting rid of me for good?" Nick asked. "What for? It's not so as if you'd remember afterwards what I am."

"I know it _now_," Cynthia answered with determination, "and I want to end it. It looks too much like necrophilia to me."

"_What_?" Nick thought he hadn't heard right.

Cynthia shrugged again. "I'm sorry, Nick, but let's face it: you _are_ dead, and I'm not comfortable with the knowledge that I've slept with a corpse in the recent weeks. I don't want to remember it, and I don't want to continue doing so, regardless the fact that I won't know it."

"I… I see," Nick said flatly. He was very obviously hurt, but Cynthia couldn't care less at the moment.

"And don't even think of fooling me," she warned. "I might not remember a thing afterwards, but I've made sure that Brian would learn about everything, should you _not_ respect my wish in this matter. You might not realize it, but he's very fond of me. He won't be pleased."

"Nor will he be able to do anything against it," Nick retorted, a little hostile himself. "He's not the Prince of the City yet."

"No, but he will be, in a couple of decades," Cynthia said, "and he has a long memory. I'll probably no longer be around on the day of the reckoning, but _you_ will. And let me tell you: he's got a foul temper. I've been on the receiving end often enough."

"Are you threatening me?" Nick asked with an arrogant little smile.

"No," Cynthia was completely unfazed. No one could do arrogance like Brian Kinney, and she'd been exposed to _that_ for years. It took more than impress her than the arrogance of a fledgling vampire. "I'm taking precautions."

"You wouldn't need those if you accepted our offer," Nick said.

Cynthia nodded. "And I will, don't worry about that. But I like taking my time. And I don't like it when people – even dead people – are trying to force my decision."

"We're not trying to…" Nick began, but Cynthia interrupted him.

"Oh, yes, you do. But you'll have to realize that I'm not as easily manipulated as you might have thought."

Having rendered Nick absolutely speechless, for the first time since they'd known each other, she rose.

"Thanks for the rather… interesting dinner," she said. "I'll call you when I've come to a decision. Please, don't push me. It won't do you any good… either of you."

Before driving back to _Kinnetic_, though, she made stop at a public phone cell. She didn't know how far how far Horatio Ballard's contacts might reach, and she didn't want this particular call to be watched. She'd lied to Nick – she hadn't taken any precautions yet. That was mistake she intended to correct now, right there.

"Hallo, Brian," she said calmly when her boss picked up the call in LA. "We have to talk. I've received a somewhat… unusual offer, and I think you need to know about it. For several _very_ good reasons."

TBC


End file.
